


Heaven Couldn't Wait For You

by joshbroban



Category: Glee
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 04:09:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1454839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joshbroban/pseuds/joshbroban
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Finn’s death, Kurt struggles defining the relationship he had with his brother and also must deal with his grief while taking care of the funeral arrangements.</p><p>Written for the Glee Write What You Know Fest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heaven Couldn't Wait For You

Kurt’s phone rings, but he doesn’t pay attention. It’s three in the morning, he has a test tomorrow, followed by a double shift at the diner, and he just doesn’t have the motivation to answer another drunk dial from Puck or an existential crisis from Finn. It rings again after the first call stops, so he silences it with a groan and turns over beneath his comforter. His phone buzzes with a voicemail, and just as he begins to drift off again, he hears the vibration of two consecutive text messages. Something about the sound of it strikes a strange chord in him, so he reaches back blindly and gropes for it until it’s in his hand.

He groans at the light from the phone and while his eyes adjust, he taps his code and opens the text from his dad.

 

> From: Dad  
>  _Kurt call me right now_
> 
> From: Dad  
>  _it’s an emergency kiddo please call us now_

His stomach drops and his hands shake as he calls his father back.

“Hey bud,” Burt says, sounding weary and clearly in the middle of crying.

“Dad? What’s going on? What’s happening?”

“I don’t even know how to say this.”

The words land heavily in his chest and Kurt’s eyes tear up out of a fear that he doesn’t quite understand. “Dad, please.”

“It’s Finn.”

Kurt’s breath catches in his throat. “And? What about him?”

There’s a long silence and Kurt knows what his father is going to say before he does.

“Dad?”

“He’s gone. He…he’s gone.”

Kurt’s quite sure that this is a dream. His heart pounds against his ribcage, much louder than the clock on the wall or Rachel’s breathing a mere fifteen feet away from him. It’s even louder than the resounding “NO” pulsing through his body.

“I’m so sorry, bud. I’m so sorry,”

Kurt doesn’t pay attention to his father giving some sort of explanation for what’s happened. He stares blankly at one of the pictures next to his bed of himself, Finn, and their parents on the Fourth of July, all of them in the middle of laughing at something. By the sheepish look on Finn’s face, probably something he said.

“I’ll buy your ticket now, Kurt, okay? I’ll send you a text with the details.”

“Okay,” Kurt replies, still not sure that this is real.

“Do you think you can tell Rachel or do you want Mr. Schue to do it?”

“No,” Kurt says immediately, without a second thought. “I’ll do it.”

Burt is silent, but Kurt can see him nodding in his mind.

“Are you okay, Kurt?”

Kurt doesn’t answer. Burt seems to understand.

“I’ll see you soon, kiddo. Promise me you’ll be okay.”

“I promise,” Kurt replies, but it feels like a lie.

* * *

 

It’s strange.

Planning any funeral is strange, Kurt knows. Planning Jean Sylvester’s had been agony, but this…

Kurt is well versed in the art of detachment. He can push his emotions into places that he can’t quite see, and that’s useful. If he allowed himself to consider it, he’s sure this would be impossible if he couldn’t push the pain away like this.

Of course, that’s if he thought about it.

There is too much to be done. People to call, cards to write, flowers and food to be ordered. He needs to choose a casket and call the Glee Club members and ask them to sing. He needs to clean the house and pick up dry cleaning and cook for Carole who has walked around trying to do things but just ends up staring at the wall.

First, though, he needs to call NYADA and tell them he needs to be excused from his classes on bereavement leave.

_“You’ve reached the office of Dean Carmen Tibideaux, how can I help you?”_

“Hi, this is Kurt Hummel. I was wondering if there is a time that I can chat with Madame Tibideaux over the phone today. It’s an emergency.”

 _“Hmm, she looks booked for today,”_ the receptionist says after a few moments. _“If you’d like, I can take a detailed message and she can respond to you via email. Otherwise you’ll have to wait until Wednesday.”_

Kurt sighs. Wednesday is two days away and he needs to be excused now so that he doesn’t get angry emails from his professors.

“Okay, I guess I’ll leave a message. Uh, I need to be excused from classes this week. My brother passed away and I flew home yesterday evening.”

_“Oh, I’m so sorry, hon. I’ll let her know right away. Is there anything else you want to tell her?”_

“No, that’s all. Thank you.”

_“No problem, Mr. Hummel. My condolences to your family.”_

“Thank you.”

Kurt hangs up and sighs.

* * *

 

The supermarket has always been a calming place for him. He walks automatically, focusing only on the ingredients of everything he buys and avoiding processed foods in favor of organic materials.

Just as he’s about to pull a bag of flour off of the shelf, he hears a woman speaking in the aisle next to his.

“I hear they have the other boy planning everything. The gay one,” one voice says.

Kurt freezes. There’s only one person in Lima that gets the honor of being referred to as “the gay one,” and it isn’t Santana.

“Well, he’s always done everything for Burt,” another woman responds.

“Can you imagine, though? Having to plan your brother’s funeral at that age?”

“They weren’t really brothers, though.”

“Well, yes, they were stepbrothers, but they seemed close.”

“It’s not the same. Those boys had nothing in common, there’s no reason for them to consider each other brothers. Stepbrothers aren’t the same as real brothers; there’s no blood there – the love isn’t the same. There are plenty of kids whose parents marry and then have nothing to do with each other.”

“Well, I suppose that’s true. Still heartbreaking though. So young to be planning a funeral.”

The second woman scoffs. “So young to be dead.”

It’s almost a full minute before Kurt can move again.

* * *

 

When Kurt meets up with the director of the funeral home later that day after taking the groceries home, he’s exhausted and unable to focus. In fact, the only thing he can really think of is the woman from earlier saying that he isn’t—wasn’t Finn’s brother.

When a short, chubby man walks in, Kurt barely remembers to stand and shake his hand.

“Mr. Hummel, I’m Mark Obermann. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” Kurt responds as he has countless times in the past few days.

“Now, your stepbrother—“

“Brother,” Kurt interrupts.

Mark gives him a blank smile. “Excuse me?”

“Finn is my brother.”

Kurt ignores the pitying look that Mark gives him.

“Of course, my apologies.”

They discuss the specifics of the arrangements, Kurt writes down the instructions for the PA system and gets the card for a grief counselor in the area. He promptly throws the card away after shaking Mark’s hand and leaving the building.

He just doesn’t have the time for that.

* * *

 

“Kurt, come here.”

Kurt’s head snaps up from his history paper at the sound of his dad’s voice. He stands in the doorway to the kitchen and cocks his head toward the living room. Confused, Kurt stands and follows his dad out.

“Carole tried to pick out Finn’s clothes for the casket, but she’s having a hard time. Can you do it for her?”

Kurt nods. Of course he can. There’s nothing he can’t do.

When he walks into Finn’s room, Carole is sitting on the bed with Finn’s jacket. He clears his throat and she looks up. She smiles at him, even with eyes full of tears

“Oh, Kurt. I’m just going to go start dinner. Can you, uh, tidy it up in here a bit?”

“Of course, Carole.”

“Yeah, I’ll be back up after…I’ll be back up,” She walks past him and pats him on the shoulder, looking straight ahead. “I’ll be back up.”

Kurt waits until she’s down the stairs before closing the door and walking to Finn’s closet. The second he opens it, he’s hit with the faint smell of Finn’s cologne and he needs to force himself to breathe.

“It’s fine,” he reassures himself.

He pulls out a striped blue button-down and quickly tosses it aside onto Finn’s bed.

“No,” he says simply.

He considers a maroon sweater for a few seconds before hanging it on the door.

“Maybe.”

He goes through practically the whole closet, issuing a verdict for every top he sees.

“No. No. Maybe. Hell no.”

The entire time, the woman’s voice lingers in the back of his mind. Was she right? Does he really love Finn as a true brother? There’s no way for him to know, after all. He hasn’t even cried since he found out. Shouldn’t he have cried? It’s not that he doesn’t care...there’s just so much to be done. There’s no time for tears.

It’s when he pulls out a blue striped polo that he’s finally stopped in his tracks.

It’s such an ugly shirt. He’s always hated it and every time Finn wore it, Kurt would openly groan and tell him that it fit him all wrong, that the crest was terrible, that there are better clothes for tall boys in the world but Finn insisted on wearing that damn polo.

“Fuck no,” Kurt says, but he can’t put it down. “Absolutely not. Never in a million years.”

He’s not sure when the tears start. One minute he’s shaking his head, fisting the material of the blue polo; the next, he’s pulling down all of the shirts and throwing them on the ground.

“No! No! No!”

Burt runs into the room, sees his son throwing Finn’s clothes all over the floor, and pulls Kurt into his arms. Kurt thrashes in his father’s embrace.

“They’re all wrong! They’re all wrong!”

“Kurt! Kurt, it’s okay!” he says desperately, trying to silence his son before Carole hears downstairs.

Kurt finally realizes what’s happening and stops almost immediately, his chest heaving and face wet with tears.

“Dad?”

“It’s okay, buddy; it’s okay.”

“I was his brother, right dad? He knew I loved him, right?”

Burt’s breath catches and Kurt sobs into his father’s chest.

“Absolutely, Kurt. He knew you loved him. You were his brother. He’ll always be your brother.”

“I loved him the best I could. I loved him as much as I love you and Blaine and Carole.”

“He knew. He knew, bud.”

“He’s my brother. He’s my brother.”

* * *

 

Carole asks Kurt to sing at the funeral. At first, Kurt refuses. There’s just no time, he tells her. He has so much to do that day, and he has no time to prepare anything.

She understands, of course.

* * *

 

Not long after The Lamp Incident, as he likes to call it, Finn lugged himself downstairs to Kurt’s room.

“What do you want?” Kurt asked him from his seat in front of the mirror.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m tired of your apologies, Finn. I accept them, but I know now that you don’t respect who I am.”

“Kurt, no, I do. I do!” Finn begged, walking quickly to Kurt and holding his shoulders. “I know I screwed up, but I’m not that guy. I’ve never been that guy. Everyone’s always told me I should be or that I should be scared of you, but I’m not. I don’t care that you’re gay, Kurt.”

Kurt watched him from the mirror, and had to admit that that the look of utter regret on Finn’s face seemed genuine.

“Kurt,” Finn said again.

“Can you grab me my water from my bedside table?”

Finn nodded and went to grab it. He handed it to Kurt with a hopeful smile and Kurt sighed.

“Okay. I’ll tell my dad to ease up on you.”

Finn grinned.

“Thanks. Not that that’s the only reason I—“

“I know. Want to watch a movie?”

“Sure.”

* * *

 

After the wedding, Kurt went home and threw himself onto his bed. Just as he was about to drift off, Finn walked in unceremoniously and plopped down next to him.

“Yes?” Kurt asked with a drawl.

“I can’t believe we’re officially brothers.”

“Step-brothers,” Kurt corrected.

Finn nudged him. “Whatever. I’ve never had a brother, so you’re going to be mine now. None of that ‘step’ stuff.”

Kurt smiled and laughed a little. “Okay, whatever you say.”

“Were you about to take a nap?” Finn asked.

“Yes,” Kurt answered pointedly.

Finn chuckled. “Can I nap with you?”

Kurt groaned and finally looked over at him. “What are we, five?”

“Hey, we have a lot of years to catch up on! Come on, I’ll put on some sleeping music and we can drift away.”

Before Kurt can protest, Finn actually does start playing a song called “Drift Away.”

_Day after day, I’m more confused_

_Yet I look for the light through the pouring rain_

_You know that’s a game that I hate to lose_

_And I’m feelin’ the strain_

_Oh, ain’t it a shame?  
_ “Who sings this?” Kurt asked.

“Dobie Gray. Uncle Kracker did a cover of it, but I like this one more.”  
“Me, too,” Kurt said simply.

They fell asleep and when Carole went in later to ask if Kurt knew where Finn was, she smiled and turned off Finn’s iPod.

* * *

 

Kurt stands at the front of the funeral home now. They’re expecting him to say something wise or loving or tear inducing, but he has nothing prepared. Well, that’s a lie. He has a speech prepared that he’s spent days writing, but it’s not right. It’s not what he really wants to say.

He looks out into the crowd and it’s the sight of Rachel sitting next to Puck with her head on his shoulder that seems to wake him up from the haze he’s been in since that phone call from his father.

His brother is gone. Forever. He’s not going to get any more late night phone calls from him or see pictures of Breadstix food on his Instagram feed. He’s not going to be in the shower and hear Finn bang on the door to hurry him up. No more text messages asking him what color this curtain is or how to describe the taste of popcorn. 

He realizes how stupid this all his. Finn isn’t even here to see his eyes tear up or watch all these people say nice things that they’d never say to his face. Why the fuck should it matter now when Finn is never going to know how much they care? Why did Kurt spend so much time perfecting a flower arrangement and writing a stupid speech when he should have been dealing with all of this instead?

“Kurt?”

Kurt jumps at the sound of a voice behind him, and turns to see Blaine standing behind him.

“You okay?”

Kurt clears his throat and nods. Blaine stays behind him and rests a hand on his shoulder. It calms him and Kurt brings himself to look into the crowd.

“Finn Hudson was, at more times than I liked to admit, my hero. He wasn’t perfect, but he tried so hard that he might as well have been.”

As he’s about to continue, he catches sight of the women from the supermarket sitting in the back with the rest of the community members who knew of Finn and came to pay respects. Kurt freezes for a split second, but shakes his head with a bitter laugh.

“You know what?” he says instead. “He was a lot more than my hero. He was my brother. Not my _step_ brother. My brother. We might not have come from the same body and we might not have grown up together, but we loved each other more than we ever said out loud. We fought. We screamed at each other and said hurtful things, but at the end of the day, I knew that if I needed him at three in the morning and called, he would pick up before the second ring. He was my brother, and screw anyone who says any differently.”

A few old ladies gasp and Puck wolf whistles. Burt shakes his head with a grin in the front row and Carole has a soft smile as well.

“This is for you, ya big lug.”

Kurt takes a deep breath and begins to sing.

_“Oh, give me the beat boys and free my soul  
I wanna get lost in your rock and roll and drift away…”_


End file.
